
Xo 



Hell (^te 





Class _V_5_3_^ 
Book .W G J_ 
Copyright N" 

COPYI^IGIIT DEPOSIT. 



Golden Gate 
to Hell Gate 




BEING INTENDED AS A HUMAN 
DOCUMENT, DETAILING IN 
BRIEF THE ADVENTURES, 
HUMOROUS AND GRIM; 
REVERIES, AMBITIONS, 
HUNGERS, THIRSTS, 
DISAPPOINTMENTS, TRIUMPHS 
AND REMINISCENCES OF TWO 
MEN WHO SIDE BY SIDE 
CROSSED THE AMERICAN 
CONTINENT FROM CALIFORNIA 
TO MAINE IN AN AUTOMOBILE 
RUNABOUT ::::::::::: 



\K^\ 



UfBRARY of CONGRESS 
Tw« Capias Reoeivsd 

FEB 6 1904 

-, Copyright Entry 
CLASS ft- XXc. No. 
COPY 8 



Copyrighted and Published by 

Brownell & Humphrey 

Detroit,' Mich. 



GOLDEN GATE 
TO HELL GATE 

By L. L. H7//7-.1/./.V 

Doubtless many dear old conservative 
souls think that, although we came 
through the desert and the foot-hills 
without being bitten up by grizzlies, 
proselyted by JMormons, or scalped by 
Apaches. Hammond' and I are a harum- 
scarum lot — the sort that makes balloon 
ascensions at country fairs, or runs 
away to sea to the deep mortification of 
our respected families. To these stiff- 
necked censors we protest we are seri- 
ous-minded young men. We set out 
to cross the American Continent in a 
Runabout for many reasons — love of 
adventure being not the least potent. 
Being inherently modest, we assert 
that the same spirit guided a Columbus 
to America — a Magellan to the South 
Seas — a Stanley through the African 
jungles, and the numberless explorers 
who are still getting themselves lost in 
the Polar Seas. We didn't feel that we 
had "'a message for mankind'' — although 
we did have a message for Mayor Low 
of New York, from Mayor Schmitz of 
San Francisco. 

It is axiomatic that one can best see 
the country on an overland expedition 
by that means of locomotion which can 
be controlled by one's self. Of such 
means the automobile is far and away 
the most practical — for a trip across 
the Rockies, the only possible one. In 
a railroad train one sees the country 
5 



GOLDEN GATK TO HELL GATE 

through a sht in a hox ; in an automo- 
bile the world stretches away on ah 
sides unobstructed, and above, the bhie 
vault of heaven— when it is not raining, 
a condition which we found amazingly 
infrequent. I confess we were attracted 
I)y the novelty of the idea — a trip 
across the Continent, about 5,000 miles, 
in an automobile. 

To be absolutely honest, I cannot 
say whether originally it was Ham- 
mond's suggestion or mine. At the 
first involuntary stop we made — at the 
first whiff of calamity, 
Hammond asserted 
with a w'holly unnec- 
essary vehemence, and 
^ in terms which I still 

■-'' 'i^m^. recall vividly, that I 

!• had suggested the 

trip— possibly I con- 
tradicted him — I can't 
remember. When, 
however, we were 
standing in Mayor Low's rather badly- 
ventilated office in New^ York's Munici- 
pal Building, trying to remember the 
words that we had been rehearsing for 
5,000 miles, and the crowd outside was 
cheering, and newspaper reporters were 
asking silly quesfions, and everybody 
looked overheated, embarrassed, and 
supercharged with congratulations, 
Hammond said: "My idea has certainly 
made good, old man, hasn't it?" Only 
the distractions of the moment spared 
his life. Now, however, I don't care. 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

I doubt not that Hammond has told the 
same story about me. The important 
thing is, that we made the trip — we did 
it together, and our friendship has suf- 
fered no serious impairment. Constant 
and inevitable "palship" for 5 000 miles 
of canon, desert, and a submarine coun- 
try pike, makes a severe test of friend- 
ship. To bridal couples who may come 
to contemplate it as a transcontinental 
honeymoon, I offer a vigorous dispar- 
agement. As soon as Hammond and I 
had decided "to make a stagger at it,"' 
we began to find 
a great deal of 
trouble in re- 
straining o u r - 
selves from stop- 
ping everybody 
on the street 
and breaking the 
news. 

Pasadena is not 
a large metropo- 
lis. As a means of rapid, if inaccurate 
communication, the telegraph and tele- 
phone are. still miles behind the exchange 
of "strict confidence" in Pasadena. It's a 
good, typical American town. Within 
fifteen minutes after Hammond and I 
"had plighted our troth," I was asked if 
I "were crazy to try to reach the North 
Pole with a combination automobile- 
sled-launch" (a sort of amphibious-runa- 
bout, I suppose); if it were true that I 
was to take that "mere boy" (that's 
Hammond), on a foolish attempt to tour 




GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

up to Dawson City via the Chilkoot 
Pass." When I found Hammond — which 
I made shift to do at once — I am afraid 
I spoke rather sharply to him about 
these pleasant ]ylunchausenlets that he 
had been dropping into circulation. 
Hammond answered my query by ask- 
ing me in his usual straightforward way, 
what "particular brand" I had "been 

smoking" — to tell X that we 

were going to tour straight down to 
Cape Horn, transport to Cape of Good 
Hope and emerge for breath at Cairo ; 
or that we were going to lead a string 
of three racing machines down to Presi- 
dent Diaz, of Mexico. I should certainly 
never have suggested the trip to Ham- 
mond (if I did suggest it at all), if he 
hadn't a really remarkable sense of 
humor. We shook hands again and 
said: "Let's start early, if for nothing 
but to shake the gossips." 

Then came the period of preparation. 
One who has contemplated an expedi- 
tion of so much as twenty miles from 
home and taken his friends into his 
confidence, will have some idea of the 
kindly suggestions with which we were 
bombarded. Had it not been for a 
superhuman exertion of the will, we 
should certainly have been forced to 
add a freight train to our commissary 
to carry the commodities that were 
purposed to lighten the hardships of the 
trip. There was everything from 
woolen mufflers to bedroom slippers. 
Doubtless in the minds of many solicit- 
ous friends, we left an impression of 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL (xATE 

base ingratitude and ignorance of the real 
exigencies of transconiinental touring. 

We received our machine at Los 
Angeles on June 2y, IQ03. It was not 
built to achieve the record of a 5,000 
miles' drive from ocean to ocean — it 
was just a modest, little "Oldsmobile" 
Runabout, taken from the regular stock 
with no dream of the Titanic labors in 
store for it, or the wreath which fame 
was to hang upon its dashboard. A car- 
lot of its brothers and sisters had just 
been unloaded, and Hammond and L 
after figuratively examining its teeth 
and ankles and finding it sound, se- 
lected it forthwith. It appeared to be a 
docile and willing little runabout and 
a radiator with a cooling surface some- 
what larger than the ordinary recom- 
mended it particularly for the waterless 
deserts, which we contemplated not 
with pleasurable feelings. If it be of 
any comfort to the manufacturers of 
this trusty little steed of ours, we shall 
repeat and emphasize that our "Olds- 
mobile" Runabout was simply a random 
selection from a carload of its col- 
leagues. We had a large touring-box 
made to carry our luggage and supplies 
— about 250 pounds of it — and this, 
with the weight of Hammond and my- 
self — about 180 pounds each — made 
approximately a load of four persons 
for that plucky little machine to lug 
5,000 miles. 

At the time of our planning, indeed 
of our departure, all attempts to cross 
the Continent in an automobile (of 
9 



GOLDKN GATE TO HKLL GATE 

whatever make or horsepower) had 
failed signally. We had much to 
achieve — not only a trip of unequalled 
scenic grandeur and an opportunity of 
seeing a great reach of our country at 
first hand, but the honor of being the 
first drivers across America's backbone 
in a runabout. 

We had spent many days poring 
over maps — Hammond and I — follow- 
ing the vaguely defined roads by canon, 
over mountains and through stretches 




of hundreds of miles, which we knew to 
be vast and dreary solitudes. W'e 
looked anxiously at those blotches 
which we knew to be parched and sand- 
choked deserts, with the bones of hap- 
less pioneers still bleaching in the sun 
to mark a course of unwritten tragedies 
in the westward march of civilization. 
Of course, Hammond and I weren't as 
ornate in our language when we were 
discussing the easiest anrl quickest 
itinerary. In fact, our consultations 
were, as I now remember them, very 
matter-of-fact, and straight to the point. 
We soon decided that our journey 
should be along the Southern Pacific 

10 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

Railroad to Ogden. then by the Union 
Pacific Railroad to Omaha, then Chi- 
cago, Detroit. Niagara Falls, Albany, 
New York. Boston, and then to Port- 
land. ]\Iaine. 

A map of these United States makes 
a very pretty sort of mural decoration — 
Hammond and I remarked upon this 
often. The reds and" blues contrast very 
prettily — the Rocky Mountains make a 
grateful break in the color scheme that 
an ambitious flea would scorn to leap. 
From the Golden Gate to the Hudson 
River doesn't look to be far enough to 
get the machine really well started. It 
seems the veriest sort of a romp — that 
cross-continent run. That is, accord- 
ing to the map. Once when we were in 
mid-desert and the water was low, and 
the metal on the machine blistered one 
at the touch, and the horizon was a 
beautiful kinetoscope of tricky mirage, 
Hammond said he thought it ought to 
be a statutory ofTense, idealizing a 
standard map like that. 

To Easterners. Denver is pretty far 
West, but when you are going East in 
a runabout. Denver is as remote as the 
shining walls of Jerusalem. As a matter 
of fact, Denver is about as far from the 
Pacific as from the Atlantic, and the 
western half is one va>t. uninhabited 
wilderness as silent as a toml:). 

THE BREAK- A WAY. 

]\Iost auspiciously we started with our 
little "Oldsmobile" on July i, with the 
"God speed" of friends, the rather tear- 
II 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

fill admonitions of relatives, and the 
sage head-waggings of the hopeless 
pessimists. We took passage by 
steamer, the runabout, of course, 
aboard, for San Francisco. Here for 
two days we devoted ourselves to the 
rather discouraging task of confirming 
the glaring inaccuracies and criminal 
optimism of our earlier maps. Also 
we were given — generally gratuitously 
— the chilling warnings of more skep- 
tics. We hurried through our final 
preparations, for even enthusiasm is a 
finite quantity and not warranted proof 
against such spirited and ceaseless as- 
saults as the San Francisco "knockers'' 
were offering it. To the few cheerful 
souls who offered us encouragement, 
we turn back gratefully at this time, for 
they were sparse enough to be most 
conspicuous. 

On July 6th, we received from Mayor 
Schmitz the letter of greeting to Mayor 
Low of New York, posed for our pic- 
tures, fought ofif the last of the scoffers, 
and started chugging away on our 
5,000 - mile journey to the Atlantic 
Ocean. It was a rather trying moment. 
Candidly, it was diflfilcult to convince 
ourselves whether we were dauntless 
heroes or unmitigated fools — each 
argued the former hypothesis to the 
other, but our hearts may have been 
singing a very different tune. Only the 
little "Oldsmobile" knew, and it is really 
its story that we are telling. We 
crossed on the ferrv to Oakland and, 




GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

with hearts full of hope, and tank full 
of gasoline, headed due eastward. 

"We're off!" said Hammond, with a 
brave attempt at a nonchalant smile. 
"We're ofif!" I said, "but not mentally, 
I hope." This being one of the few 
really good things I said during the 
5.000 miles, I chronicle it unblushingly. 

We spoke not for many miles on that 
first "reach." The gorgeous scenery 
filled in the conversational gaps. The 
first few minutes of a transcontinental 
tour are excellently adapted to serious 
reflections. Al- 
ways the little 
"Olds mobile" 
was very busy. 
The run to Sac- 
ramento gave 
our thoughts . ' ^ 

time to adjust p|_. '-' . . 

themselves to a if*^;^*' 
thoroughl}- novel "" 

situation, how- 
ever much anticipation had striven to 
prepare the wa)'. By Sacramento we had 
regained our composure and at the first 
greetings of the good townspeople, began 
to feel quite the celebrities that subse- 
quent hosts sought to depict us. Then on 
we clung to the old emigrant road, and 
here imagination hurdled decades back to 
the da}s of the sturdy old "forty-niners." 
Hereon once trudged the mule and 
oxen teams that hauled the hopeful 
miner and his family, counting the 
weary miles to fabulous riches, the new 
Eldorado. Countless unmarked graves 

13 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

we buzzed by — countless graves of 
hopes. Here fatliers had perished l)y 
the side of their helpless families — here 
had ended that heart-breaking- journey 
across the deserts — here ambition was 
buried. Here had the way of westward 
civilization been paved with the whiten- 
ing- skeletons of those old pioneers. 
And on we spun in our little "Oldsmo- 
bile," covering their journeys of days in 
as many hours. 

Up over the towering, mystery- 
cloaked Sierra Nevada range we went 
from Placerville, Cal., which lies in the 
foothills on the west, to Carson City. 
Nevada, the foot which the huge giant 
of stone has planted to the eastward to 
keep his balance in this endless ''stunt" 
of standing astride the American Con- 
tinent. For 150 miles we passed 
through scenery at which we gasped and 
shuddered and discussed in awed tones 
and wholly meaningless terms. 

Up and over rock-strewn passes, the 
little macliine of ours mounted without 
complaining, without faltering, without 
missing an "'explosion'' until we shut 
ofT the power and l)locked the wheels 
to look about u])on the world, in the 
shadow-land of clouds beneath us — 
here a forest, here a yawning chasm, 
there beyond, the beginning of the 
awful desert. We could almost believe 
that we could discern the sky-scrapers 
of New York in the vapory blue horizon 
far to the east. We stood then in our 
"01dsmol)ile" 8.000 feet above the level 
of the sea. 

14 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 



l'"or lOO miles we fairly climbed along 
the banks of tumbling mountain 
streams. One evening- we caught a 
string of rainbow trout which were 
leaping out of their troubled waters, 
presumably to get a look at our auto- 
mobile. 

Mile after mile we spun along a road 
that had been blasted out of the solid 
rock, the sheer wall of the precipice on 
one side, pointing a sinister and gaunt 
finger of granite straight into the 
heavens for hun- 
dreds of feet ; on 
the other hand, the 
side of the moun- 
tain dropped away 
into space with 
p r i c k ly - looking 
pines miles below. 
A moment of inde- 
cision, a case of 
rattles with the ^.'■■■v* 

steering gear — it 
is not a pleasant suggestion, 
told Hammond so, when he brought 
up the gruesome possibility at an in- 
opportune moment. And then there 
came a test for the little machine, 
quite as severe as the climb had been, 
descending the mountain side. The 
brakes were on always and several 
times we stopped to permit them to 
cool. 

We wound about the shores of Lake 
Tahoe, that inexpressibly beautiful body 
of crystal water that glitters, diamond- 
like, 6,000 feet above the sea. a jewel 
15 




and I 



GOLDKN GATE TO HELL GATE;. 

with the i^randetir of the Sierras for an 
impressive setting. In six miles we 
drop 6,000 feet — we could, of course, 
have dropped more rapidly, but not 
without sprinkling automobile and 
chauffeur dust over the unsuspecting 
countryside. The road zig-zagged back 
and forth, so that at one station we saw 
the path cross at five different points 
of elevation below us. Here indeed 
Mother Nature cast aside her natural 
dignity to wantonly loop-the-loop. And 
here at last we 
said farewell to 
J the Sierras, with 

the heavy odors 
of the ghostly 
pine forests, its 
e X h i 1 a r ating 
m o u n t ain air, 
and its spark- 
ling- mountain 
brooks. 
No impressive scenes that may come 
along- in the train of this life's hapi)en- 
ings will ever blot out the memory of 
the almost unearthly beauty of a sun- 
rise in the heart of the Sierra Nevadas. 
How often has the twang of the clear 
mountain air, and the refreshing chill 
of the water in the mountain streams 
come back to mock and torture us 
when we were fighting the pitiless sun 
of the hopeless deserts! 

SPEAKING OF DESERTS ! 
Now began "the winter of our dis- 
content" — that is, one of the many such 
16 




GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

winters, which, in spite of accepted 
meteorological theories, reoccnrred fre- 
quently in the ensuing weeks. A short 
run it is from the foothills of the 
Sierras to Reno, Nevada, and there we 
prepare for the desert, the hcte noir, 
which the pessimists and alarmists 
dinned most stridently into our unwill- 
ing ears. At Reno we set about to 
fortify ourselves against the demons of 
sand, sun and thirst. We secured a 
capacious and practical sort of canteen 
to carry our drinking water. We pro- 
cured little desert-helmets, for the sales- 
men of Reno are rich in expedient, and 
generous with suggestion. At last — 
and probably most important of all — we 
fit the "Oldsmobile" with sand-tires, 
made of heavy canvas stufifed with 
waste to lash over our rear wheels. A 
wise, even a vital expedient, were these 
to combat the waves of drifting sand 
that lay before us. 

And scarcely were we outside of 
Wadsworth when we "went to it" — a 
great, waterless desolation, soft beds of 
sand that dazzles and stings, and irri- 
tates like flea-bites, alkali lake beds, 
poisonous hot springs and deadly suffo- 
cating gases, and over all a blazing sun 
— Oh! a rollicking, charming bit of pas- 
toral is this corner of our continent — 
truly the "country God forgot" ! And 
through 600 miles of this entrancing 
landscape, the conscientious little run- 
about puffed and buzzed. 

About every 100 miles there is a rail- 
road station. These are not beautiful 

17 




GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

settlements — one would not select them 
in sang fro id for a vacation or a health 
resort. But to us they were the most 
delightful incidents in the world. We 
could have wept for sheer joy at the 
sighting of each one of them. They 
were truly the oases in the desert, 
these crude, noisome, but hospitable 
railroad roosts. They cling to the rails 
for dear life and we cannot blame them, 
for in the rails is the pulse of civiliza- 
tion and life itself — the rails bring them 
food, water and 
— whisky ; for. 
as on all fron- 
tiers of society, 
the forge tful- 
ness of one's 
^ ^ cares comes — 

and there are 
many cares to 
be forgotten — with the cup that cheers. 
Cheering is locally an intensely popular 
diversion. 

There is no road between these dubi- 
ous shelters, nothing but a trail and for 
a light-hearted disregard of all the re- 
sponsibilities which a self-respecting 
trail should hold sacred, this trail is in 
a class quite by itself. It wanders away 
over hills and mountains covered for 
the most part with sage brush, and sage 
brushes introduce into automobiling a 
dash of uncertainty that anywhere but 
in the heart of a howling wilderness 
would be quite exhilarating. The gen- 
eral aspect of a romping cheerfulness is 
enhanced by dry river bottoms of hard 
and seamed clay and an occasional 
i8 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

stream of sluggish and malodorous 
alkali water. There are count- 
less miles of white alkali to blind the 
eye and discourage even the irrepress- 
ible sage brush. Such a stretch is the 
Humboldt Sink and over it we traveled 
for twenty miles, while the scorching 
sun rays beat down and were radiated 
with twenty times their initial intensity. 
We choked and coughed, and plodded 
with clenched teeth and rattling tongues 
for twenty miles. Yes, we look back 
with tearful eyes to the charms of Hum- 
boldt Sink. 

And when, for the nonce, we left the 
"burning sands" and took to hills, we 
were scarcely better off. The deeply- 
washed ruts of the hills leave a mound 
in the center of the "road." And here 
we were time and again literally hung 
up by the axles. For this we soon 
provided a shovel and crowbar, and we 
would scramble out and dig the ma- 
chine out of the rubbish. This was an 
inning of the "knockers.'' 

Other diverting incidents came to 
relieve the monotony of our trip through 
this fascinating land. The trail often 
led miles away from the railroad track, 
the one touch of man in a world of 
ungodliness. Often we would take a 
wrong trail, for they crossed and re- 
crossed without a semblance of shame. 
Once we put confidence in a deceitful 
trail for 25 miles together, for the day 
was fine, the road rather less atrocious 
than usual, and our spirits high. It 
was the passableness of the road that at 
19 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

length aroused our suspicions. It was 
too good to be true. The crushing dis- 
covery came too late — we were lost. 
The road, seeing further deception use- 
less, straightway became worse. The 
night closed in, and we, babes in the 
sage brush, slept fitfully, for appre- 
hension of the outcome, and the cease- 
less, and by no means cheering, howl- 
ing of coyotes kept our thoughts ab- 
normally active. Under the pale desert 
moon, we built a fire of sage brush, 
choked down a snack of very stale 
lunch, moistened our lips from the 
almost dry canteen, and at the first 
streak of a blood-red dawn, took the 
back track. 

One afternoon we found we were out 
of water. A brush had caught the pet- 
cock on the under side of the cooler. 
The water had leaked away. That 
doesn't sound blood-curdling to one in 
the lap of civilization. Had the heavens 
suddenly wobbled and tottered above, 
we, in the heart of the wilderness, could 
have been no more cast down — it 
was a calamity, rotund and lusty. 
Thirty miles behind was the nearest 
relief — and twenty ahead of us accord- 
ing to one of those pessimistic charts. 
Our canteens were well-nigh dry. The 
road did not look as if a team had 
passed for months, even years. Tliere 
was nothing to do but abandon the 
machine and strike out across country 
for the railroad, which we figvircd to be 
about eight miles as the crow flies, that 
is, if any right-minded crow had ever 

20 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

flown in tliat country. And the crow 
flew right and didn't lie about it, which 
is a miracle, I think, confined in that 
country, so far as I know, wholly to 
crows. 

We struck the railroad after flounder- 
ing through an ocean of sage brush, 
and, what was better, soon saw the 
light of a section' house. We forgot 
our aching bodies and our parched 
throats at this — we even chatted gaily 
there in the dark and laughed a little. 
W'e said: "It was a loud squeak, old 
man, but we're all right now.'' And 
then we reached the alleged section 
house and oin* cheery hail met with no 
hospitable response — our hearts sank — 
we hurried on, without speaking, to 
find no section house, but a blind siding 
— no human being, no water, no shelter, 
no food, no cheer, only a coldly blink- 
ing railroad lantern. Had Hammond 
burst into tears, I should have joined 
him with all my heart. May life hold 
no sorer disappointment for me, than 
the hopeless despair of that moment. 

We pulled our belts a notch tighter 
and trudged on along the ties. The 
second light came at last and with it, 
human beings. Two good fellows wel- 
comed us with whole-souled hospitality 
and, what was more to the point, with 
water. We flagged a midnight train, 
went back up the road 15 miles to a 
settlement where, in the morning, we 
secured a horse, a lunch and water and 
went out into the sage brush to find 
our poor, deserted little "Oldsmobile." 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

We found it after feeling apprehensive 
lest the coyotes, proverbial thieves that 
they are, had made ofif with it entirely. 
We killed rattlesnakes, scores of them, 
with the horsewhip, on the drive in 
with the machine, but even that was 
not compensation for the whole inci- 
dent. And to think it could all have 
been avoided with the possession of 
one dinky, little gallon of water. 
Heigho! the automobilist is doomed to 
learn slowly, but he surely learns with 
exceeding thoroughness. 

And then Ogden. Utah — Oh! the joy 
of reaching Ogden — not so much for 
the sake of Ogden, but because the 
realms of alkali, thirst and the nearest 
approach to a terrestial inferno were 
passed. Candidly. I don't know how 
much of a place Ogden is, but the day 
that we rolled in there, covered with 
dust, and with a thirst that any club- 
man would have sold his birthright for, 
it seemed the fairest garden spot of 
the world. I could have settled down 
then and there in Ogden and lived a 
tranquil and sedate old age. 

The fields and the fruits, and the 
flowers, after sand, coyotes and rattle- 
snakes! It was as the port to a storm- 
tossed mariner, and we made the most 
of it, Hammond and L Here we leis- 
urely overhauled the machine, scraped 
the alkali from ourselves, had a few pic- 
tures developed, and then, with brighter 
hopes, started on the 400 miles across 
the state of Wyoming. Here we reach 
at last the summit of the grand ohl 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

Rockies and now start upon that coun- 
try where the rivers run eastward. The 
sage brush has happily given way to the 
green grass of the undulating prairies. 

We pass through huge droves of 
cattle, and the sound of our horn and 
the exhaust of the cut-out muffler sends 
them rushing away in ridiculous panic. 
Near ]\Iedicine Bow, we came upon 
roads that would bring joy to the hearl; 
of a "good roads" advocate. We had 
literally to build the road of huge 
boulders before the 
machine could be 
moved at all. Every- 
where were washouts. 
Just outside of Rock 
Springs, a tornado 
wind struck us. Xo 
doubt our progress 
would have been con- 
siderably accelerated 
had we yielded to 
the will of the wind, but feeling that the 
trip should be made without the kindly 
assistance of the strenuous elements, we 
took refuge behind some friendly 
boulders. At that, machine, Hammond 
and I were nearly blown from our an- 
chorage. 

Then there came that period of the 
trip when the sand of the desert did 
not appear so undelectable, contrasted 
with the condition which prevailed and 
had to be combated. That condition 
was mud. Without having really given 
the matter serious reflection, we hadn't 




GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

known that there was so much mud in 
the world. Had we been told that 
Omaha w-as really the mud center of 
the universe, we should have swallowed 
the assertion without a murmur. We 
had left Denver one day at noon and 
made lOO miles before sunset, and — 
there is no denying it — we were 
"chesty." We began saying that the 
trip was so "nearly over"; "wished the 
easy stretch before us wasn't quite such 
a cinch" ; "hoped we wouldn't get into 
Detroit too long before the automobile 







\M'^ ' 



races" and a whole lot of shallow, 
optimistic plff\e like that. 

But little did we know what events 
the next few hours would bring forth. 
We went through all the mental pro- 
cesses that moved Noah to his con- 
struction of the first cup defender. 
Rain — rain everywhere and not a launch 
to float! We put ropes on the rear 
wheels, took off our shoes and stock- 
ings and, half wading, half swimming, 
three-quarters cussing, pulled the ma- 
chine through slimy, oozy lakes of 
mud. It rained six times in five days. 
We waited in Omaha for nine days for 
a let-up and. despairing of that, we 
24 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

floundered on through it. Ten inches 
of rainfall in twenty-four hours and, 
for once in the life of man, the weather 
report appeared to be conservative. 
Bridges, all over the state of Iowa, we 
found washed away. 

The Missouri spread itself with 
blatant egotism. Council Bluffs needed 
only a few mandolins and the imposing 
palace of the Doges to be a Venice. 
This after the burning sands was in- 
deed a contrast. The little "Oldsmo- 




bile" was long-suffering and patient — 
just what sort_ of an amphibious thing 
it was to stand the baths, we were at 
a loss to guess. We took to a hill 
whenever we sighted one. shook our- 
selves like water spaniels, baled out the 
machine and splashed on. By driving 
early and late, we made Chicago, 600 
miles, in four days, not so bad for 
chauffeurs who could point no boastful 
finger to a mermaid somewhere perched 
in the family tree. 

We rolled into Chicago under the 

25 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

usual auspicious circumstances — rain- 
ing cats-and-dogs. A few hardy Olds- 
drivers of Chicago, whose hospitality 
was not quenchable in water, were wait- 
ing for us under the poor shelter of 
some Garfield Park trees. They gave 
us a greeting that warmed us through 
our steamy, water-soaked clothes, and 
piloted us to the Chicago Automobile 
Club, where wc lunched sumptuously. 
A day in Chicago gave us time to give 
the plucky little engine a much-needed 
overhaulinsf. 




We reached Detroit in time for the 
automobile races — and not as we had 
"feared,'' too soon. We were royally 
entertained and for the two days during 
which the races were on, we devoted 
ourselves to inspecting the enormous 
plant of the "Oldsmobile" and preparing 
for the last stretch of the journey. We 
had made 637 miles in less than two 
days. Then we, for the first time, 
crossed the international boundary at 
Windsor and rode into the domain of 
26 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

King Edward. W'c were forced here to 
make a deposit of $130.00 with the cus- 
toms authorities which, however, was re- 
funded to us when we re-crossed into 
our own country at Niagara Falls. 

From thence on, being everywhere 
within sight of that most welcome 
sight to the wayfarer, the habitations of 
man, always on roads that were pass- 
able and often excellent, we bowled 




along famously toward our long-wished- 
for destination. Through Palmyra, 
down the picturesque and historic 
Mohawk Valley, the home of the hostile 
Six Nations, we hot-footed it through 
Rochester, Lyons, Syracuse, Utica and 
Albany, where we cross the stately and 
changeless old Hudson and run down 
its eastern banks to New York City — 
at last. 

What we did there, we flatter our- 
selves, is a chapter now of automobile 
27 



GOLDEN GATK TO HELL GATE 

history. We talked to reporters; we 
posed for cameras; we tried to look un- 
concerned when the crowd gaped at us 
and full of wonder, fingered and mar- 
veled at the sturdy little "Oldsmobile." 
We shook hands with Mayor Low, and 
]\Iayor Low shook hands with us; we 
gave him the letter from Mayor Schmitz 
of San Francisco, and, with another ex- 
change of amiable blank-cartridges, we 
withdrew, perspiring, relieved and tri- 
umphant. 

Then we started on the very last 
sprint of all the grand journew In two 




days we were at Boston, one more at 
Portland. !^Iaine, and with the last 
gasp of the sparker in that town, there 
ended the longest trip in an automobile 
ever made between two points in America 
and in the world. We took oft our hats, 
Hammond and I. and with deep solemnity 
and in sincerest gratitude, did homage 
to that inanimate, but faithful, little 
"Oldsmobile" Runabout with its honor- 
able scars and its glorious wounds of a 
big achievement — across the Continent 
from ocean to ocean — and ready to 
turn that minute and hit the back trail. 
28 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

THE THINGS THAT WE LH^E TO 
THINK ABOUT. 

These are — first, that we can greet 
the "'knockers" of the Pacific slope witli 
all the magnanimity of one who laughs 
last, for we have no excuses to oflfer, 
and no hard-luck stories to tell; that, 
that loyal old cyclometer shows ap- 
proximately 5,000 hard, honest miles; 




that, we had come through desert, 
canyon, turnpike and forest trail in 73 
days, and on only 48 of these was it 
possible to do any driving, which is an 
average of a hundred miles a day; that, 
we used only 239 1-2 gallons of gaso- 
line, or a gallon for every 20 miles for 
mountains and boulevards alike; and 
that we had used up only four tires on 
the whole heartbreaking journey. These 
things, we admit, we are outrageously 
proud of. 

29 



GOLDEN GATE TO HELL GATE 

We had a few delays of that char- 
acter where you perspire and fume, and 
say with your self-control working over- 
time. "I can't make the thing go." We 
had to put new leathers on the brakes, 
replace the rivets, and put in new 
clutch-bands and wiring. We had no 
trouble whatever with the spark — let 
that be writ large and impressive. We 
did not once run out of gasoline and 
only once out of water, then when a 
bush turned on the pet-cock on the 
under side of the cooler with spectacu- 
lar results which we have recorded. 

And this is about the end of it. Foi 
what we experienced, what we sufifered 
and enjoyed, the biting disappointments 
and the inexpressible delights of him 
who has done that which he had set 
himself to do, we would not sell for all 
the wealth of Wall Street. We have 
capital which we have laid up by the 
exertion which makes a man bow down 
onlv to superior achievement of pluck 
and perseverance. 

This much, at least, have we found in 
our transcontinental tour in the "Olds- 
mobile," to which, say we, all honor. 

F/y/s 



lO 



